Double the Trouble
by ScarletWitch89
Summary: What do you do when you have to thank your enemy for offering you the things you've most desired?
1. C1: And you won't get away with it

_**Title**_: _Double the Trouble_

_**Author**_: _ScarletWitch89_

_**Disclaimer**_: _I don't own Vampire Diaries. _

_**Rating**_: _M. Just to be sure._

_**Summary**_: _What do you do when you have to thank your enemy for offering you the things you've most desired?_

_**Author note**_:

_Well, since the show makes me want to jump inside the screen and grasp a neck or two when it comes to the Damon/Elena relationship, I have decided to make my own story about the two of them. Therefore, this is how I see their relationship going. _

_There will be an OC (possibly more as the story continues) in this story, and she will have a very important role in it. However, this story is about Damon and Elena. As a warning, the progress of the characters' relationships will be quite slow (and I am talking about all the characters)._

_The story is set after episode 2.14, Crying Wolf._

_That being said, happy reading, hope you enjoy and any opinions on this story are very appreciated._

_**Legend:**_

_Italic _represents thoughts.

**Bold **represents flashbacks.

_**Italic Bold **_represents thoughts in flashbacks.

* * *

_**Chapter 1: **__And you won't get away with it._

The flames danced in Damon Salvatore's eyes, a reflection of the fire burning inside the fireplace and a reflection of the fire burning inside his heart. His fingers were wrapped around a glass containing his favorite type of alcohol – bourbon – with an unnatural grace; perhaps the result of over a century of drinking. And, as of lately, his hand has been holding a glass more than usual, Damon realized.

His eyes closed as he tilted his head back until it reached the couch he had been sitting on for the past two hours, drinking, in a futile attempt to drive his thoughts away from the woman that had managed to turn his world upside down in such a short time. _Elena._ But it was impossible, really, and above all, it wore him out trying to forget her even for one second. He couldn't, not now, not when he learned that not only Klaus but Elijah too planned to sacrifice her.

Of course, he hadn't trusted Elijah in the first place, but hope, with its tiny little white wings had been wandering around his head, offering him at least the possibility of Elijah keeping Elena safe from Klaus. However, the disturbing information that the witch had provided sent hope down into an abyss, its wings ripped apart, the white fading quickly into nothingness.

And Elena… _She knew. _She had known all along that when she'd made the deal, she was trading her life for those of her friends. Of those whom she loved, cared about. If he would have had a beating heart, it would have skipped a beat when he remembered the morning of that awfully stupid day when she decided to surrender to Klaus.

* * *

"**Wow. Sounds like you guys have it all planned out."Elena said, folding her arms in front of her, as her eyes shifted from Stefan to Damon.**

**Damon pushed himself of off the kitchen counter. "Yep. We're awesome."**

"**Except for one thing." Elena continued, looking away for a moment. She looked back at Damon, her eyes unreadable, his, filled with curiosity and worry. **_**What the hell was she talking about?**_** Her eyes lingered on him for another second, then, her head turned to the side to look at Stefan as she spoke again. "I don't want you to do it."**

**Confused, Stefan turned his head toward his brother and saw his own emotions mirrored on Damon's face. He too, had no idea what Elena was talking about. Their gaze shifted back toward Elena, their eyes already giving away the question Stefan asked. "What are you talking about? Elena. We don't have a choice."**

"**What about Klaus?"Elena inquired.**

**Damon quickly bit back a comment about how Klaus could stick his status as an Original right up his ass. Why did Elena need to think so far? It was all pretty simple to Damon, to Stefan, to all involved, minus Elena. First they made sure Elena didn't have her blood spilled for a stupid ritual, second, they worried about repercussions. Not surprisingly, his brother voiced his opinion. In a less explicit, more polite manner, of course, and if not the gravity of the situation, Damon would have rolled his eyes. Never in a million years would he have thought that his brother's thoughts wouldn't be completely opposite to his.**

"**We'll find him, right after we get the moonstone." Stefan assured. Elena didn't seem convinced, for her expression quickly changed to a more rebellious one.**

"**Is that before or after he kills everyone that I care about, including the two of you?"And as her finger pointed to Stefan and to himself, her eyes trailed from Stefan to him and Damon felt as if they lingered on him for an eternity. He simply looked at her, dumfounded, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something. He didn't even remember if he wanted to say something, his thoughts, his words frozen as all he could do was to stare.**

"**Elena. If we can dispel the moonstone, we can save your life."**

**Stefan's voice pulled both Damon and Elena back to reality, and she was the first that looked away, and yet, she didn't look at Stefan but at the counter top.**

"**I know. Everybody keeps saying that." She said in what Damon guessed it was an exasperated tone. She looked at him again, for a very brief moment, before she pushed herself of the chair and left the kitchen, letting him and his brother stare at her departing figure.**

* * *

Damon cherished that memory, Elena's lingering stare forever imprinted into his mind. It had been the first time she'd admitted caring about him. If Damon was ready to die for her before, from that moment on, he would have done anything for her. Damon's eyes snapped open, and for the hundredth time in two hours, he looked at the waltzing flames while his thoughts continued to linger on to Elena's own desire to getting herself sacrificed. When Stefan had informed him that Elena knew about Elijah's plans all along, he was so tempted to rush over to her and slap some sense into that suicidal mind of hers. Perhaps, if he wouldn't have been needed here, he would have. He also knew that it would be futile, Elena was so trapped in her martyr mode that not even Stefan had managed to convince her otherwise. But he'd stopped her once, and he'd stop her as many times as necessary. And he'd kill anyone that dared to touch as much as one hair of hers, either she liked it or not, or he would die trying.

Noises from above caught his attention, and he absently remembered that Andie was upstairs, asleep in his bed. He focused his hearing, and he could hear the sheets rubbing against her skin when she shifted in the bed, the rhythmical beating of her heart, even her steady breathing pattern. He almost felt sorry for her, for today he had been rougher than usual with her as he poured his frustration and anger in every action. _Almost, _he repeated to himself. Silly little reporter, getting his attention, not knowing what she was getting herself into.

When no other sounds but Andie's breathing and her beating heart could be heard, he focused his attention back to the glass of bourbon in his hand. His eyes shifted lazily to the old clock that rested against one of the walls. 3:44 AM.

Humans. They had no idea how much their life was simplified.

_Tick._

They could always take refuge into the land of dreams. They could always drown their sorrows into alcohol.

_Tack._

Damon glanced back to the glass of alcohol, in an attempt to remember the number of refills he'd made during the two hours he'd spent here. Too many to be counted. And yet, his sorrow was as acute as ever.

_Tick._

And sleep… how he wished he would sleep right now, oblivious of the cruel pain of reality.

_Tack._

But he was a vampire. There was no easy path for him.

_Click._

His senses, until now overwhelmed by the small sounds around the house, were suddenly on alert as the pattern was broken. Damon looked to his sides with the corner of his eyes while the glass holding the glass of bourbon was lowered to the couch. And as soon as the bottom of the glass reached it, Damon Salvatore was up and to the side of the couch in a second, his back turned to the fire, his hand already grasping the stake that until then had been laying at his feet – a reminder of the previous day and of his encounter with the werewolves.

His eyes narrowed at the empty space of the living room – if not for his enhanced senses, he might as well have considered himself crazy, paranoid. But he _knew,_ he was not alone anymore, for he had spent the last few hours listening to the never changing patter of sounds – the ticking of the clock, the cracking of the wood burning in the fireplace, the whooshing of the wind outside, the thumping of Andie's heart. As his eyes scanned the darkness, his knowledge was quick to be confirmed. The door, which he was sure he'd locked, was now slightly ajar – the opening so small that was impossible for the human eye to detect it through the darkness.

Damon let out a breath, his body assuming a fighting stance, the hand holding the stake already slightly extended, ready to strike any moment. He was dealing with a vampire, he was certain of that too, for werewolves, while fast enough, had a tendency to lack in the stealth department. That, and the fact that they had beating hearts.

"Playing hide and seek, hmmm?" Damon called out, quiet enough to be heard only by supernatural ears. After all, Andie was upstairs, sleeping. "I'm warning you… I don't like games." He received no answer, verbal or otherwise, so, quietly, he stepped across the room, his ears perked in an attempt to detect any noise. By the time he had almost reached the archway leading to entrance, it was safe to say Damon Salvatore was pissed off. He wasn't sure what this vampire thought to accomplish by playing games with him but he was sure as hell of one thing: it was the wrong day to do it.

As he was just one step away from walking through the archway, the intruder zoomed by him and into the living room. And Damon was grateful, really, for he quite needed a reason to go into murderous mode, to rip away hearts and necks, to vent out the anger that for a while had been threatening to reach the limit – that limit that sent him over the edge and made him turn the switch off and go on to a murderous rampage. And everyone knew what the repercussions of that were. On the other hand, no one minded another dead vampire.

The intruder was soon introduced with Damon Salvatore on a bad day. He didn't bother to see who it was, in a second flat, with moves that would have made most vampires envious, he had the vampire against the wall (and he had driven the intruder into the wall with such a force that he was sure the wall didn't survive this particular move unscathed), his forearm against the neck, the stake going through the stomach in one swift motion. He heard the grunt that left the vampire's mouth when the wood pierced flesh and only then he bothered to see who it was.

No one he knew, was the first thought that passed through his mind. A female, quite small, judging by the fact that he had needed to lower his head considerably in order to be at face level. She had her eyes closed, her head slightly bent forward, her lips pursed – he assumed that was the result of having a stake through her stomach. A mass of dark brown hair – almost black into the dim lighting the fire provided, fell around her face in loose curls, casting dark shadows upon her features. Features that convinced Damon that she was fairly young when she was turned – he guessed seventeen. Not that it mattered anyway.

His face inched closer; meanwhile, his hand rotated the stake inside her stomach. She didn't grunt this time, only her jaw line hardened slightly under the treatment he offered. "Who are you?" He asked, his voice icy and sharp as the Arctic wind. He offered her one second to speak, but when she gave no sign of planning to speak anytime soon, he executed another movement with his stake-holding hand, and the wood administered even more damage. "And what do you want?"

He felt her taking a deep breath, her chest moving slightly against his own, the first movement she'd made ever since he'd pinned against the wall. Her head moved too, as she let it rest against the wall and the curls slid away from her face, to reveal her expression. She kept her eyes still closed, but let her facial muscles relax – her jaw line was no longer rigid, the straight line of her lips softened, even her eyes, although still closed, lost the tension they've been displaying before.

"I'm…" She paused, sighing silently before opening her eyes – colored in an icy blue that rivaled Damon's best death glare. "I'm not impressed by your manners, Damon Salvatore." She finally said, her voice matching her stare – cold, sharp, deadly. Damon's eyes widened, his eyebrows knitting into a frown as he studied her closer. Who was she? Because apparently she knew very well who he was, he, on the other hand, drew a blank, no matter how much he analyzed her. And that was the least of his worries – the woman, girl, whatever – had a stake through her stomach, and yet, here she was, clearly not in pain, or weak, or anything he'd hoped her to be. He guessed the grunt, the face he'd witnessed earlier, were just the effects of being caught by surprise and not being in pain.

And from his experiences with vampires and stakes, he knew just one vampire who was unaffected by stakes and the such – Elijah. The Originals. And this is where he became confused, panicked even. If this woman was an Original … perhaps she was one of Klaus' lackeys. Did they find out about the doppelganger? About Elena? Was their time suddenly cut short? He could handle the fact that he could die this night … but he couldn't handle the fact that he couldn't warn Elena and Stefan. Damn it! Where the hell was Elijah when he needed him? Because even though the older vampire wanted Elena dead as well, he wouldn't sacrifice her until Klaus was out in the open. And that bought Damon time. So where the hell was he, to keep his part of the deal and keep him safe?

_Maybe she's just old. Very old. _Hope, that pestering little thing, made its appearance – maybe she was not an Original, maybe her purposes here were entirely unrelated to the major problem of his life at the moment – Klaus. So Damon tilted his head to the side, curiously, resorting to the only thing he never seemed to lack - humor. "Ex-girlfriend?" He offered, his eyebrows rising into a comical expression. He was sure he wouldn't have forgotten her if that would have been the case.

She chuckled, indeed amused by his comment, and her small hand, which had been left to hang limply to her side until now, started to wrap around his larger one. "I'm afraid not." She responded, keeping her amused glance, even as her fingers began to crush the bones in his hand. It was Damon's turn to grunt now, and, unlike in her case, it was because of pain. With his hand still in her powerful grasp, she started to pull out the stake, rotating it inside the wound, a reminder that his previous actions were not forgotten. And as she did so, her eyes remained locked on his; not a single muscle on her face even flinching during what should have been a painful experience.

It felt like an eternity, until the stake was completely extracted from her body; and they kept staring at each other in complete silence even after the process was completed, their bodies completely motionless. She was still against the wall, with his forearm pressing into her neck. He still had his hand on the stake, the only difference that the tip was now pressed lightly against her flesh, and not piercing it. Her hand was still applying pressure on his broken bones. Their faces were still close enough to feel each other's breaths on their skin, and they still kept their eyes on each other in what felt like a battle for dominance – whoever looked away first, lost.

His lips moved; he broke the perfect silence. "Then who . are . you?" Her lips moved too. Not to form words, but the beginning of a smirk. Or at least that was what Damon got to see, for in the next moment, he was slammed against the floor, _hard_. He felt the intruder on top of him – her knees pressing his forearms into the ground, her fingers wrapped around his neck to keep him down, and what felt like the tip of the stake poking at his chest; at his heart. The impact had made him close his eyes. He opened them now, and she saw her above him, her icy eyes still on him, still amused. He glanced at his chest and his guess was confirmed – the stake, drenched with her blood, was now poised threateningly above his heart. Damon looked back at her, curious, and in return, she lowered her head until the distance between their faces was lesser than when he'd kept her pinned to the wall. Her hair fell to the sides, like a curtain of some sort, blocking most of the light the fire provided. In the semi-darkness, her eyes were grabbing, demanding all of his attention, her other features becoming almost like a blur. He could read the danger inside them, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to feel frightened. He felt amused, actually, for he imagined that Katherine would have been one jealous bitch if she knew her death glare was nothing compared to this woman's.

"You… attacked me." She purred, and he felt the tip of the stake starting to pierce his skin. He closed his eyes and Elena's face made him feel serene in the face of death. He imagined her smiling at him and his only regret was that he didn't get to hold her in his arms one more time. He simply sighed.

"It happens." He answered. She laughed. He heard it, he felt it, and he opened his eyes.

"And you won't get away with it." She continued, that annoying amused glance of hers still plastered on her face. The stake moved painfully slow, making its way to his heart. He closed his eyes again, Elena making its appearance once more, her eyes filled with love, her face serene. And with her in mind, he felt no pain. With her in mind, Damon Salvatore was ready to embrace death.

* * *

_**P.S.**_

_The flashback is from episode 2.10, The Sacrifice._

_Photo of how my OC looks: _

( _h t t p : / / i 2 8 6 . p h o t o b u c k e t . c o m / a l b u m s / l l 8 5 / i m _ s c a r l e t _ w i t c h / d t / a 0 1 . p n g_ )

_I'm afraid you'll have to type the above in the adress bar for if I write it without the spaces it won't show when uploaded._


	2. C2: It's only fair

_**Title**_: _Double the Trouble_

_**Author**_: _ScarletWitch89_

_**Disclaimer**_: _I don't own Vampire Diaries. _

_**Rating**_: _M. Just to be sure._

_**Summary**_: _What do you do when you have to thank your enemy for offering you the things you've most desired?_

_**Author note:**_

_Here it is. Chapter 2. Short Chapter 2, that is. ._

_Hope you enjoy!_

_**Legend:**_

_Italic _represents thoughts.

**Bold **represents flashbacks.

_**Italic Bold **_represents thoughts in flashbacks.

* * *

…

_"And you won't get away with it." She continued, that annoying amused glance of hers still plastered on her face. The stake moved painfully slow, making its way to his heart. He closed his eyes again, Elena making its appearance once more, her eyes filled with love, her face serene. And with her in mind, he felt no pain. With her in mind, Damon Salvatore was ready to embrace death._

…

_**

* * *

Chapter 2: **__It's only fair._

"I see you waste no time getting yourself in quite some interesting positions."

Damon's eyes snapped open, his head turning to the side to glance at the owner of the voice. Elijah, as calm as ever, leaned against the archway, his arms folded casually as he observed the scene. The vampire above him had too, turned her head, the stake hovering above his heart freezing into place. Her amused expression had been replaced quickly by a predatory one. Fangs barred, bloodshot eyes narrowed, she hissed at Elijah. The male kept his composure, unaffected by the woman's display, simply staring back at her.

Damon could say he was impressed with the ease the Original handled these situations.

"I try." He replied, shrugging as much as his current position allowed him. Elijah let a lazy smile tug at the corner of his lips as he glanced at Damon for a brief moment. With the same ease of before, he let his eyes trail back to Damon's attacker, the smile fading away.

"Don't stake him." He demanded, letting his arms fall to his side, his expression bordering boredom at this point. Damon remembered the last time he'd witnessed that expression, he ended up having to pick up werewolf hearts off the floor.

"Try not to make a mess on the carpet again."

Damon's comment made the female vampire turn her attention toward him once again, vampire fangs and all still in place. As the amused expression from before returned, she let her features shift back to normal. She shook her head slightly at him before turning her head back to Elijah.

"It's only fair." She replied with a shrug. "He staked me first."

It was Elijah's turn to shake his head at Damon, a chuckle escaping his lips.

Contrary to what Damon guessed it would happen, the woman was submissive to Elijah's command. In an instant, she was off of him and in front of Elijah, engaged in a battle of gazes with the Original. Damon pushed himself up, rubbing the now healed portion of his chest. He sighed. Another perfectly good shirt ruined. Mystic Falls would end up being the death of his wardrobe.

Another sigh later, he looked up to the other two vampires, casually observing that their positions hadn't changed one bit. "You two are staring each other to death or what?" He inquired, his eyebrow arched perfectly into one of his questioning expressions.

"Someone needs to teach this boy that silence is golden." The female commented, glancing sideway at Damon. He smirked in response.

"He needs to learn much more than that." Elijah replied with a short lived sigh.

"Letting the fact that you've just insulted me by calling me a boy…" Damon began, shifting his eyes from the female to Elijah. "Why am I under the impression that the two of you know each other?"

Elijah almost smiled in response. The woman actually laughed. "He is one perceptive lad."

Damon's nostrils flared, as he was one comment away from staking her. _Again_.

"You know." Elijah began, looking back at the female. "I thought that, given the circumstances, you'd come to visit me first."

"Ah-ah-ah." She wiggled her finger at him in disapproval. "Don't even go there." With her arms folded and eyes narrowed, she spoke again. "I came. You were nowhere to be found. Thought I might as well keep myself occupied." Holding back a smile, she glanced briefly in Damon's direction.

In a confused Damon's direction, that is.

"And you knew me because…"

Elijah nodded briefly in the female's direction then looked at Damon.

"I told her." He replied. Damon's expression changed to one of curiosity in an instant.

"And I've asked her to come here."

Damon grimaced. "Awesome." As if one super powerful vampire was not enough to deal with.

One corner of Elijah's lips rose slightly.

"Damon, meet Alexandra."

The Original's glance became more amused with every second that passed.

"Believe it or not, she's here to protect you."


End file.
